


Driven To It

by thefriendyouleftinthehallway



Series: incomplete works on possibly-indefinite hiatus [1]
Category: Baby Driver (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Character Death, Gen, Killing, Out of Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23454895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefriendyouleftinthehallway/pseuds/thefriendyouleftinthehallway
Summary: At 17, Baby’s a pretty good getaway driver, and Doc calls him in almost once a month. But when a complication at ‘work’ forces him, unwillingly, to shoot someone, a demonic curse that has possessed his bloodline for years is activated, and he changes. For better or for worse.(Vampire AU? Because I literally couldn’t help myself?)POORLY WRITTEN & UNFINISHED.
Series: incomplete works on possibly-indefinite hiatus [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1687315
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Driven To It

**Author's Note:**

> (This note is on every fic in the series.) I have a lot of unfinished work that I may never get back to and it seemed like a bit of a waste so I thought I’d just post the better ones as-is. That being said, I would like to state that while this piece of work is self-categorised as ‘unfinished’, that does not necessarily mean that I won’t ever return to them, so sadly the concepts are NOT up for grabs. (However, you can always post a work and put this in the ‘[this work is a remix, a translation, a podfic, or was inspired by another work](https://archiveofourown.org/help/parent-works-help.html)’ section: I’d be really flattered and surprised.)

“We need to switch rides,” Baby said. It was the longest sentence he’d uttered that day so far. 

“The checkpoint--”

“No,” Baby said, interrupting the man riding shotgun. “Another switch.” He’d taken too long. Word would’ve gotten around, they needed another switch before the checkpoint. 

Then, he pulled quickly into a back road, tires smoking on the asphalt. 

“There we go,” Bats said from the back seat, and gestured out the front window. Another car had stopped in front of them, going the other way. But there was only just room enough on the narrow road for the both of them, and neither was close enough to the edge to let the other pass. 

They gathered the rucksacks of cash and poured out of the hot car, marching towards the other car, which was being driven by a middle-aged woman, who looked increasingly distressed as she noticed the guns. 

The four of them, Baby, Bats and the other two, stood around the car as Bats knocked on the window with the shotgun. She seemed to be paralysed, but as he lined the barrel up with her head from opposite sides of the glass she removed herself from the car speedily. 

But instead of telling her to run, Bats grabbed her, shoved her onto her knees, and pressed the gun to her head. Baby tugged on Bats’ sleeve, and he looked up. 

“So, Baby,” he said. “I’ve always been curious. What are you made of? Puppydog tails, or ice?”

Suddenly, he grabbed Baby, and shoved him in front of the woman. He pressed the shotgun into Baby’s hands, and lined it up with the woman’s head. Then, he pulled a pistol out of his jeans and aimed it at Baby. 

“Kill the witness,” Bats said. 

Baby stood, floored, frozen. He had to make a choice. Whose life did he value more: his, or the woman’s? 

“I’m losing patience,” Bats said, cocking the gun in his own hand and shoving it roughly into Baby’s temple. “I will do it Baby.”

_ She’ll die anyway,  _ Baby thought to himself, and with the rough words  _ selfish brat  _ floating through his mind, swirling angrily, he fired the gun into the woman’s skull. 

Suddenly, his body was ice-cold, and the stress came away like… like the way PVA comes off skin. Until it was all gone. 

He stared at the body, cold. He didn’t feel. And then he raised the shotgun, aimed it at Bats (who initially seemed very amused, until--) and fired. 

Bats dropped dead, and Baby, blood-spattered, climbed into the driver’s seat, the two others from the team, concerned, went into the back. 

\---

_ I know it’s not my place to say,  _ Baby wanted to tell him,  _ but Bats isn’t stable. He’s a liability, a wildcard, and every single time he’s part of the team, you don’t know what shit he’s gonna pull.  _ But he didn’t say that. Instead, he just stated. “He was dangerous.” 

“They’re all dangerous, Baby,” Doc said, exasperated. 

“Not like that,” Baby mumbled. “Sporadic.”

“I don’t know what you expected from professional criminals,” Doc said, “But if any one of them is totally sane, I’d eat the hat I don’t have.”

Baby nodded. 

“Look, Baby,” Doc sighed. “You’ve got yourself into some trouble. It’s nothing anyone I’ve worked with before. I’ll cut you some slack.” Then, his eyes, his tone went hard as stone, and he stared Baby dead in the eye. “But don’t do it again. Got it?” 

Baby nodded a second time. Doc sent him away without any of the money, not even the miniscule regular cut. He considered his lesson learned, or so he’d thought. 

It wasn’t until he woke up the next day that he  _ felt  _ it. That guilt, sickly, gnawing. The iPod he listened to that day, and the subsequent days (two, consecutively) was a blue mini, and the songs it contained were slow, quiet, and mournful. 

They tasted like gentle heartbreak. Soft failure. He was lying on his bed with lyrics sighing through his earphones when he got the call.  _ Blanket of leaves hide the light from the stars; I'll lie awake listening out for cars…  _ It was interrupted by the harsh sound of a phone buzzing. It lit up as it did, vibrating on his bedside table so desperately that he could feel it in the air. 

He considered ignoring the call, but he needed something distracting. Something he could really focus on…

He picked it up. 

“There’s a debrief this afternoon, Baby,” Doc’s voice said through the burner. “1pm. Be there.” He hung up. 

\---

Copper. Copper, in the air, sweet and bitter like false hope, overpowering, overwhelming, suffocating. It enveloped him, all he could think was of the smell, of what it  _ meant.  _ All he could hear was the pounding of hearts, the rush of blood through veins. His skin tingled like a breath of anticipation before an almost-crash. 

The tip of his tongue dripped saliva in his mouth, his gums ached for his teeth to bite, and he couldn’t breath, he could barely think about using his eyes to see, his whole being wrapped in the smell of it. The smell of blood. 

He couldn’t stand it any longer, and stood, suddenly. The discourse in the room, which he hadn’t really listened to, stopped suddenly. 

“Yes, Baby?” Doc asked tiredly. 

Baby blinked a few times and grounded himself, feeling like he could simply float away if he didn’t clench his fists like he did, and sigh like he did. 

“Someone’s bleeding,” he spat. He didn’t mean to sound so angry. 

“What do you mean, Baby?” Doc asked. 

“Someone in this room is bleeding, I can-- I can--” his eyes met with Buddy’s, and he knew who it was. “It’s you,” he accused, and rushed forward. 

He began to pat Buddy down as if he were searching for hidden weapons. “Where?” he repeated, over and over. “Where, where?”

He didn’t speak like this. Not usually. But it was all he could think. 


End file.
